Better Than Me
by The Ninja Who Wanted To Be A Samurai
Summary: A drunk remembers all that he's lost. Jak/Keira, Errol/Keira. One-shot.


A/N: Oooh, I had BAD writer's block on this one. But I hope it tickles your fancy, if only a little bit. It's lonely, sad, and delightfully dark. Truthfully, this story has a very blurry storyline, so just roll with it will you? Oh, please also ignore Erol's obvious demise in the second game. Bear with me people! Do enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, Naughty Dog does. Nor do I own the song featured here, "Better than Me" by Hinder.

* * *

- _Better Than Me -_

* * *

Jak stumbled around Haven City Port in a heavily drunken state; the worst he had been in quite some time.

In his right hand he clutched a bottle of whiskey. He took a generous swig from it every once and a while and felt it burn all the way down his throat.

He hadn't raced in months. He used to love the feeling of the wind rushing through his hair, pushing away all his problems and pain. It was only him and the track.

He didn't feel anything anymore. Hell, he barely felt the nagging pain in his chest anymore. Numbed by liquor, he was just a shell of the strong, outgoing hero he used to be. Now he was drained, cruel, and bitter. Every time he began to feel enraged or depressed he would drown himself in liquor. The alcohol was a temporary fix, leaving him in a worse state once he sobered. Jak had no idea what else to do.

Lastly, which seemed to spur on almost every other problem in his life, he had not seen Keira in months. He truly was falling apart without her to keep him together.

He remembered now, as he swayed and crashed sideways into metal cans which lined the steel walls leading out to the port, the wonderful nights he had spent with the mechanic. He could see her vibrant blue-green hair in his mind's eye, could smell the faint scent of oil on her hands, feel the soft flesh of her cheek against his numbed lips.

Whenever Jak was lonely or sad and he needed someone, he thought of Keira.

Back in Sandover, he used to sneak across the bridge, up the steps, and into her small room through the window. Back when times were much, much simpler.

She would wake at the sound of his footsteps and sit up with a smile, patting the bed beside her lightly. Jak would smile sheepishly and crawl on top of the covers next to her. Keira would lay her head on his shoulder and they would listen to the others breathing. Jak couldn't communicate it to her at the time, but those nights where she comforted him after nightmares about losing his mother made him fall in love with her.

It was all he could do to keep her safe and close by. He felt a pang of guilt and sadness as he thought of his dark powers and Keira's horror at their hold over him. He quickly drank a few more swigs of the whiskey to dismiss those feelings.

* * *

_**I think you can do much better than me**_

_**Guilt kicks in and I start to see**_

_**The edge of the bed**_

_**Where your nightgown used to be**_

* * *

The stumbling drunk remembered their first kiss like it happened just a moment ago, the heat still on his lips. The shy peck that turned in to many more on her flushed lips, then trailing down her neck…

He would never, _could_ never forget her or the love he still felt burning in his chest.

Along with the whisky.

Along with the hurt.

Along with the memories of what had been.

Along with the thought of what could have been between them.

* * *

_**I told myself I won't miss you**_

_**But I remember**_

_**What it feels like beside you**_

_**I really miss your hair in my face**_

_**And the way your innocence tastes**_

_**And I think you should know this**_

_**You deserve much better than me**_

* * *

_Never forget… _He thought distantly as he continued to stumble along the port, taking a swig to numb the pain and hold back the tears he already felt gathering in his eyes. The alcohol just seemed to speed along their descent.

He continued to drag his feet to the Naughty Ottsel, bumping into citizens along his way. Some stopped to stare or taunt him, and some even shoved him back. He didn't care; he had stopped caring so long ago. Let them hate him, they had always hated him.

He arrived under the neon sign and the giant model of an ottsel, falling through the doors. All the chatter and laughter inside ceased abruptly but the music played on. He didn't have the strength or balance to regain himself.

Daxter shook his head from the counter in the back as he realized who had just crash landed into his bar. He said something in a hushed tone to Tess, then motioned to her to get the mood going again.

He walked over to Jak's slumped form as two burly men picked him up and threw him out. Daxter winced as he heard Jak crash against the hard ground.

"Washed up bastard!" One shouted.

"Hero my ass." the other chuckled.

"Yeah, keep on walking!" Daxter shouted at them. They waved him off and went back inside.

The ottsel went over to his best friend and frowned, trying hard not to get too angry. He planted his feet firmly and used both paws to try to push Jak over onto his side, but he was shoved away.

"I don't need your help…" Jak slurred, his eyes rolling around.

"Let me help you Jak." he said sharply, losing patience. Daxter sighed and went to try again. This time Jak swung hard, knocking Daxter backwards off his feet. Daxter landed with a thud. He was shocked, but not too much. Not as much as he should be. He sat up grimacing, rubbing his head and standing slowly.

He glared at Jak, fuming as he saw the man roll over onto his side slowly and clumsily.

The limits of their friendship had been tested many times in the past year.

Jak had been thrown out of the Underground. As much as it had pained Torn to throw out one of his closest friends and the hero who had saved his city, he knew it had to be done. Jak was an angry, sad drunk. He would call everyone he knew in the early hours of the morning to yell at them, screaming about the sacrifices he had made for them. He would call needing a place to crash, or for a ride, or to report that he had went ahead and drove, crashing his zoomer. He would call for money and gun repairs; he would call and then forget the reasons. When things were at their absolute worst, Jak would show up at the Naughty Ottsel looking for Daxter and just cry. Ashlein and Torn made the decision to force him out of the Underground, hoping that it would bring him to change his life for the better.

Daxter knew Jak was toxic to himself and others, but he was still his best friend, so he had taken him in to stay at the Naughty Ottsel with him and Tess.

The first week or so was fine, but after that Jak became extremely clingy towards Daxter and Tess, seeming to need them for everything. Worst of all, he now had access to alcohol all day, every day. His drinking became increasingly worse, until he was drunk from the time he got up to when he finally slept somewhere. Angry, sad, and bitter, he would destroy property and go riding through the city. He came back running from the KG many nights, leaving Daxter to call Torn for help or bribe them.

Jak had even begun taking his large dagger and cutting himself, to see if he could feel anything anymore. If not for Daxter looking out for him, he would be dead by now.

Daxter had put up with the abuse, the yelling, and the constant chore only because it was Jak. But it was beginning to be too much for him to bear, seeing his friend falling apart before his eyes. Tess was afraid of Jak now, and had been pleading with Daxter to get rid of him for months.

"Jak," he began once he regained his patience, "You're my closest friend. No, you're more like my brother... but this has to stop."

Jak waved him off and his eyes rolled in their sockets, but Daxter continued, moving closer. Talking more sternly. He needed Jak to hear him.

"You're humiliating yourself. You're hurting the people who are trying to help you."

Jak gagged, and Daxter thought he might vomit. He didn't, but rather groaned and tried to sit up. Instead his arm buckled beneath him and he shut his eyes tight in pain.

"Damn it, Jak! You're killing yourself! Don't you understand that?" he hissed out.

Jak didn't answer, only closed his eyes tighter and moaned shallowly as he tried to reach up to rub his head. Daxter moved closer, putting a firm hand on his shoulder and speaking quietly.

"Jak… she's gone, you have to accept that. Keira's not coming back."

At this, Jak's bloodshot eyes shot open and he dragged himself onto his knees, pushing Daxter aside.

"You don't know anything! You have your life all set out for you, you have everything; you don't know half the shit I've been through! You've never worked for anything as hard as I have!" he yelled, attracting the stares of many passing citizens. Daxter looked straight into his friend's glossed over eyes, growing tired of enduring this abuse time and time again.

"I loved her, and she betrayed me! All of you betrayed me!" he screamed incoherently, throwing a hand to the crowd forming around them.

"So don't think you can tell me all this 'I know what you feel like' bullshit because you don't _ottsel_. You're nothing without me." he finally hissed.

Daxter stood up with his eyes closed, refusing to look at the shell of a man that was supposed to be his friend. He couldn't take the condescending, cruel words any more. He wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth, where Jak had hit him moments before.

"If that's how you feel, then leave. You're my best friend Jak, you always have been. And I've always been beside you, but I don't know you anymore. So don't come crawling back. I'm not here for your use anymore." Daxter spat out before turning and returning to the bar.

Jak stood there, shocked and trying to process everything through the alcohol in his system. He was sorry for what he had said, that wasn't him. Or at least he didn't think it was him. He really didn't know anymore.

It was the liquor, the hurt, the memories… the monster talking. However, deep inside he knew he had meant some of what he'd said, and he felt sickened.

He looked around at the crowd, suddenly aware of their presence again. "What are you looking at, huh?" he screamed at them. "Come to see the hero? Well piss off! He's dead."

They walked on quickly, averting their eyes as he stumbled in the opposite direction, towards the one place he wanted to go most.

* * *

_**I told myself I won't miss you**_

_**But I remember**_

_**What it feels like beside you**_

* * *

He remembered it now, through the alcoholic fuzz, as he stepped up to the entrance to the garage. He recalled what had happened the day she had left him...

He had come to see her at the garage, only to find the large doors closed. That was unusual, he remembered; Keira was almost always working on a zoomer with her doors open to invite other business. Money was tight in Haven City, despite the positive changes that were being made after the Baron's demise.

He had knocked on the doors, becoming slightly concerned out of instinct. Finally, she came down and lifted one of the large garage doors.

_"Jak, what are you doing here?" _she said with a slight edge to her voice. Jak remembered wondering if she had been crying.

_"I wanted to surprise you."_ he said softly, taking her hand from her side and pulling her close. _"I've missed you. I've barely seen you these past couple of weeks."_

Kiera said nothing to him. She slipped her hand out of his, an action that shocked Jak and instantly made him concerned._  
_

_"What's wrong Keira? Are you alright?"  
_

_"Jak… I'm so sorry." S_he had whispered. He felt his heart drop as he remembered her apology, so confusing to him at the time. So painful to recall now.

_"You're so violent now, I don't even know you anymore." S_he continued, spilling out her words so fast that they were barely audible._ "You kill people and you give yourself over to the monster inside of you." _

Jak was so taken aback that he had no defense for himself. After all, what could he say to this? His darkness was known to all, and feared by all who had witnessed it. He could offer her no solace about this part of himself, which chilled him to the core. She continued, tears in her eyes now, as she looked up at him helplessly._  
_

_"What happened to the boy I fell in love with in Sandover? I can't love this person you've become… I'm sorry."_

_Blue and green hair. Light skin. Green eyes. Clear tears._

Jak balled his fists tightly, not minding the pain when his nails bit into his skin. The pain brought him back from this memory that haunted him. She had walked out of his life that day, never to return to him.

"Too violent… A monster." He echoed her words from his memory quietly, the syllables becoming thin air as he wandered to the door, placing a heavy hand on it. "Maybe I'm so violent, _Keira_, because I've been to hell and back for you."

He turned the knob slowly, almost falling inside when the door opened without protest. He stepped inside, tears gathering to his eyes as he breathed in her familiar scent. It was everywhere in here.

"Saving you, so different than everyone else… This thing inside me…"

He took a deep swig of the whiskey, silencing his incoherent mumbling as he pressed on through the apartment. He tried not to remember any of it, but all he could think of were the memories from this place, shared with her. And how much he still loved her.

He stumbled up the steps, tripping and sloshing liquor on the steps halfway up. He paused for a moment to attempt to collect his thoughts, as he felt a sharp choking sensation in his throat that meant tears would soon come. He bolstered himself with a drink before continuing up.

* * *

_**The bed I'm lying in is getting colder**_

_**And I can't pretend I won't think about you when I'm older**_

_**Cause we never really had our closure**_

_**This can't be the end**_

* * *

When he reached the top, he was panting and sweating, his vision was blurring horribly. He knew he was well past wasted by this point, and he was in danger of blacking out. He leaned against the wall, dragging himself to the room at the end of the hall. As he put his hand on the doorknob, he could hear voices.

He opened it slowly, releasing the knob and letting it sway open on its own.

His breath caught in his throat as more tears ran their course down his cheeks. He stared ahead with bloodshot, blurring eyes at Erol and Keira, tangled in sheets with each other. He felt sick all of a sudden, and he bent over to retch on the floor.

They gasped and looked up at the sound of his vomiting, covering themselves hastily.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Erol yelled; sweat dotted his brow.

"Why?" Jak whispered, looking directly into Keira's eyes. He used to be able to become lost in those eyes as they made love. Now all he saw was hurt and betrayal. And Erol with her. Filthy bastard.

"Please Jak..." Keira trailed off as she began to cry. Erol help her closer to him.

"Why?" he screamed at them. Keira jumped slightly and squeezed her eyes shut, beginning to sob.

"Why him? Was I not good enough for you?" Jak swayed from being overwhelmed with emotion and alcohol. He slammed into a dresser, knocking a glass vase from the top. "I loved you, and you turned your back on me. The one person I thought would always accept me, _always_ be there for me!" he yelled, tears running down his face and neck as his voice slurred and his throat burned.

He reached to the floor, where Erol's pistol lay discarded. Erol released his grip on Keira as he tried to slowly get out of the bed. His hands were raised in defense, trying to diffuse the tense situation. Keira gasped, her eyes growing wide.

"You hate me! I can't help what's inside me because of Praxis and _him_, or what I have to do! Do you even know what it's like?" He yelled, pointing the pistol at both of them with a tight grip. Tears still streamed slowly down his cheeks.

Keira screamed and Erol gasped, covering her.

Jak's extended hand shook, with anger and fear. He wanted so badly to just pull the trigger and end it all… take away all the pain, memories, and hurt. However, he knew that it wouldn't help, it would all become worse. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill Erol as much as he despised him, and he could never kill Keira…because he still loved her and always would.

He laughed bitterly, lowering the gun. Errol continued to inch off of the bed towards Jak. Keira was shaking, speechless.

"Jak, I don't hate you- I could never hate you…" she said slowly, through sobs, staring at him with pleading eyes.

He raised the whiskey, going to finish the bottle. He felt it burn down his throat slowly, and he smashed it against the wall, making both of them jump. Glass shards cut his hand, and the blood slowly dripped onto Keira's cheap carpet.

"It's all a waste, and I'm done with this pain." Jak whispered, raising the gun and putting his finger on the trigger, shaking and closing his eyes slowly. "It's done."

"Jak, no! Don't!" Keira screamed.

Erol made a leap at Jak as he squeezed the trigger slowly. The shot went off loudly and briefly, followed by absolute silence.

_Falling. _

_Screaming._

_Gasps._

_Footsteps on the carpet._

_Blood in my mouth._

_Blood everywhere.  
_

_Vision is blurry._

_Blue hair. Pale skin. Green eyes. Clear tears._

_Nearly gone…_

* * *

_**I really miss your hair in my face**_

_**And the way your innocence tastes**_

_**And I think you should know this**_

_**You deserve much better than me**_

* * *

_Warm lips against mine._

"I love you, Jak. I always have. _Please_..."

* * *

_**And I think you should know this**_

_**You deserve much better than me**_

* * *

_Darkness._


End file.
